


Put Me In Coach

by ThirteenSocks



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bottom Keith (Voltron), Goth Shiro (Voltron), Homophobia, Jock Keith (Voltron), M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-19 23:07:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22006885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirteenSocks/pseuds/ThirteenSocks
Summary: Shiro is a rich, famous architect who knows nothing about football while Keith, the love of his life, is a football player for Voltron University's Lions.Keith rushes to the stands as soon as they finish and the teams start dispersing to the locker rooms. He tosses his helmet next to Shiro and nearly leaps into Shiro’s open arms. He’s sweaty, and panting, and his face is red from exertion, ”How’d we look?””Amazing, baby.” Shiro pulls away from the hug just enough to be able to kiss Keith’s temple.That makes Keith chuckle. ”You only know that ’cus we won.” Keith taunts.”No!””Name that play I made in the final quarter.””Ok, yeah, I have no idea. But you looked amazing so I wasn’t technically lying.”Keith scoffs and puts on an expression of mock offense; as if it’s not clear by now that Shiro has never, and may never, know anything about football.Shiro grabs him by the jersey and lifts until Keith is forced onto his tiptoes and kisses him.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 101





	Put Me In Coach

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is for Franki's blessed Goth Shiro/ Jock Keith AU. Praise be.
> 
> Now, I realized belatedly that this might be a bottom Shiro only event. So, RIP in pepperoni, I guess.

”And Kogane breaks through the defense! You really don’t see that kind of extension of the arm outside of theoretical plays, Hunk. Kogane is having a hell of a day out there. Whoever said size matters needs to roll the tapes.” Pidge calls enthusiastically into the mic.

”Inappropriate but correct. Kogane’s about half the size of the other team - don’t tell him I said that - but he pushed through like warm butter slipping across toast.” Hunk shakes his head and scrawls some notes on the journal in front of him.

”Look at that pocket. Man I tell you, I’ve seen a lot of games-” Pidge gestures towards the field.

”-Yeah, I’ve been here with you-”

”-And boy, one thing I can tell you for sure is that no team guards their QB quite like the Lions.”

”Well, she’s not nicknamed the Queen for nothing.”

”True that, Hunk.”

Shiro smiles at his friends’ easy banter, the only thing he really picked up was, ’Kogane,’ and, ’Allura,’ and it sounded positive. Though he tries to remember what Pidge said, if just so he has something to congratulate Keith on when the game is over. The scores, at least, are something he learned, and this late in the game it’s clear that the Voltron Lions are snagging the victory.

Sure enough, as Shiro brushes down his hair enough to be presentable, and then adjusts it so strands fall loose, so he doesn’t look like he tried, the game is called and the Lions rush around Allura. All around him in the stands are chants of, ”AL-LUR-A.” If they were actual lions, Allura would certainly be leader of the pride.

The two teams line up to shake hands and it’s helmets off.

”What a game, Hunk. Another one goes to our own Lions.”

”That was some good playing from the Garrison Seagulls though.”

Shiro’s eyes fall where they always do. On Keith.

Keith lifts the helmet from both palms and his hair is a soaked mess that can be seen even from the stands. He shakes his head and then runs fingers through his hair, making some of it come loose from the elastic at the base of his head. Helmet balanced on one hip, he extends his hand to shake the other teams’.

Shiro notices that one man in particular, Griffin, the jersey reads, takes Keith’s hand and looks like he tries to rip Keith’s arm from the socket as they shake hands.

Keith rushes to the stands as soon as they finish and the teams start dispersing to the locker rooms. He tosses his helmet next to Shiro and nearly leaps into Shiro’s open arms. He’s sweaty, and panting, and his face is red from exertion, ”How’d we look?”

”Amazing, baby.” Shiro pulls away from the hug just enough to be able to kiss Keith’s temple.

That makes Keith chuckle. ”You only know that ’cus we won.” Keith taunts.

”No!”

”Name that play I made in the final quarter.”

”Ok, yeah, I have no idea. But you _looked_ amazing so I wasn’t technically lying.”

Keith scoffs and puts on an expression of mock offense; as if it’s not clear by now that Shiro has never, and may never, know anything about football.

Shiro grabs him by the jersey and lifts until Keith is forced onto his tiptoes and kisses him.

Keith must still be keyed up from the game because he doesn’t let it be just a quick peck, despite not being one for PDA. It’s a sloppy, wet, and delicious kiss with clacking teeth and tongue.

”Get a room, faeries!”

Keith breaks away.

Shiro looks around for the source and it’s that same man who tried to dislocate Keith’s shoulder. He must attempt a lunge at the man because he feels a strong hand come to his chest and looks down to see Keith shaking his head. It would be physically easy for Shiro to bowl over Keith, which is not something many can say, if he wanted to throw hands with that man, but emotionally not so. He’s frozen where Keith has him in place.

Shiro, at least, manages a glare at the man, which is enough for him to visibly startle and take off from the stands steps at a time.

”What’s his deal?” Shiro turns his attention back towards Keith, resting his hands on either shoulder.

”That’s James. He’s just mad because he wanted to go here but I’d taken the last scholarship and spot on the team. Not that he needed a scholarship, but he was trying for one anyways,” Keith’s lip curls, ”Rich brat.”

”Excuse me? I’m right here you know. Words hurt, even for us affluent folk,” Shiro tosses his head to the side and moves his gaze toward the sky, sighing with unnecessary force, ”You cut me down, Kogane. You cut me down.”

”Yeah, ok. Just don’t cry and mess up your eyeliner.”

Shiro scoffs, ”My makeup is waterproof.”

”But _I’m_ not. I’m sticky and gross, so I’m gonna go shower. ” Keith places a gentle peck at the courner of Shiro’s mouth before grabbing his helmet and leaving the stands for the locker room.

Shiro gathers his bag and slings it over his shoulder.

As he’s leaving the stands Matt intercepts him.

”Yo, dude! I saw James run with his tail between his legs. God, I forget how scary you look to everyone who doesn’t really know you.”

Shiro sticks out his tongue, letting his tongue ring catch on his upper lip on the way back in.

”So, we goin’ for some victory lap shots or nah?”

He shakes his head. ”Keith has to work on an art project, so it’s an early night for us.”

Matt’s eyebrows draw together and his lips purse. ”Y’know, for a footballer for the Lions, Keith sure is...”

”Not what you’d expect?”

”Yeah, I guess. I love him, don’t get me wrong, but he’s just a little less social then you’d expect.”

Shiro squints at Matt. ”You just want to get us drunk so you have something to write about in the paper.”

Matt’s hands fly out in defense. ”Uh, woah. Wow. Here I was just wanting a night out with friends, to celebrate friends’ victory with said friends. And then you, Tall Goth and Handsome, accuse me of having a motive. Wow.” He shakes his head and clucks his tongue.

”I know you took pictures of Keith and I making out just now.”

”Wow, dude. Again with the distrust.”

Shiro folds his arms over his chest and widens his stance. ”Hand over the camera then.”

”Oh, look at the time. There’s Keith! I’ll just let you lovebirds at it. Remember to use protection tonight.” Matt scrambles to get away, fast enough that Shiro thinks the man should’ve joined track.

Keith is walking towards him, gym bag strapped across his back. He looks a lot softer now that the crowd has mostly cleared out. Exhaustion is clear on his face, from the weaker, tired smile, to the purple circles beneath his eyes. Keith had practiced himself ragged leading up to the game and Shiro was just ready to take him home, lavish attention on him (and in him), and tuck him into bed.

So he takes Keith to his apartment and does just that. Shiro puts Keith on his back, folds him in half, and eats Keith until Keith is shoving him away and begging to be railed. Shiro, to Keith’s joy, happily obliges. And if Keith is sore the next morning then it’s definitely from the game and not that Shiro managed to stuff Keith with both a dildo and himself.

What can he say, it’s really hot putting a big time footballer like Keith in his place (which is to say: beneath or riding Shiro 95 percent of the time, on his knees for Shiro 3 percent, and inside Shiro the other 2 percent.)

* * *

Shiro meets up with Allura the next night for their weekly ritual. They go where they always go. Which is to say they settle into Allura’s couch. And they do what they always do. Which is veg on said couch with bottle of cheap wine, microwave popcorn, and trashy reality shows.

It’s one of the few times Shiro feels comfortable wearing sweatpants and a old-faded shirts outside the house.

She’s one of his best friends. If he had been attracted to women, there’s no doubt he would tried to date her. Well, actually, he had tried but thankfully Allura had turned him down graciously.

”Good game out there, Lioness.” Shiro elbows her as the show goes into commercials.

She laughs soft and beautiful and then punches him in the shoulder.

He rubs at where she hit, reminded exactly of how she made quarterback.

”Thank you. Although we both know you have no real clue what happened, except that we won. Oh, and that Keith looked scrumptious.” She adds the last bit as almost an afterthought.

”Oh God, you too, huh? Guess I’ll just have to share.” Shiro feels the courner of his mouth curl up.

”You know, we could always sit him out a game, make him join the cheerleaders.” Her face must mirror his. For a woman who looks so poised, who carries herself with such grace, she can be really devious.

”Only if he wears the skirt.” He likes the thought maybe a little too much. Built Keith squeezing into a small, skintight cheer outfit, skirt barely covering thick thighs, but highlighting shapely legs.

”I still have that strap-on, you know.” She waggles her eyebrows.

Shiro bursts into laughter. _That_ was a story he hadn’t thought about in a long time. ”Are you suggesting we tag-team Keith?”

She shrugs a single shoulder. ”He’s great at being a team player.”

They both lose it at that.

The show comes back and they settle down again watching the garbage like it’s quality television that requires respect, silence, and attention.

After awhile though, Allura shifts in her seat and the leather of the couch makes a noise. It’s clear something’s bothering her.

”Say, Shiro,” she plays with the bun that’s messily thrown atop her head, ”What do you think about Lance?” She grabs a pillow from the unoccupied end of the coach and cradles it against her stomach. Her eyes don’t quite meet Shiro’s. Her lips rub against each other as it’s clear she’s in thought.

”Lance? He’s a good guy. I mean,” he pauses and toes a socked foot into the plush carpet, ”we give him a lot of shit but at the end of the day we all love him. He’s funny, maybe a little slower, but he cares deeply, and never means to be unkind.”

Allura smiles. ”I wasn’t expecting a small speech, I’m not sure why. You can always see the best in people. But, ya, I think- I think I agree with you. At first I thought he was just chasing women and I was going to be another one he’d tried to bed. But...” she trails off, twisting an errant silver strand around her finger, ”For all the flirting he does - did - I’ve never seen him actually go home with anyone.”

Shiro hadn’t either.

”Why do you ask?” He asks already knowing. He can see that distant look in her eyes, the light sparkling in them. She’s fidgeting with her; Allura doesn’t fidget. And she sounds unsure of herself, vulnerable. Vulnerable about Lance. He knows why she’s asking but she deserves to say it.

”I think- well, no, not think- I know that... I’m starting to like him. As more than friends.”

The expression that blossoms on her face is like the first petals of spring popping forth from the snow; slow, hard-won, but beautiful.

Shiro reaches a hand out to squeeze her knee. ”He’s over the moon for you. Don’t worry for a second he’ll do anything but say yes.”

She scoots closer to him and lets her head rest on his shoulder. He brushes her hair down and kisses the top of her head.

* * *

It’s Sunday, which means Keith is out in the studio working on his projects. Shiro had tried to come along a few times but Keith inevitably would get distracted by Shiro, and unconsciously turn the piece into one of him.

Art fascinated him.

Keith’s ability to put to things to page baffled him. How could Keith create something from nothing? Shiro drew in his career, but it was always off the basis of math and structure. Every line and angle was clean and precise. Keith’s art was flowing and dynamic and made choices that sometimes prioritized emotional reaction over reality.

Shiro gets ready to shower lazily. There’re no plans for today, though he knows he’ll end up keeping busy anyway.

On his way to the shower he stops by his nightstand and opens the drawer, procuring a small, red box from it. He kisses it, as is his tradition, to fill it up with all the love he has to give for that day, and tucks it nearly back and underneath some socks. He wants the love to overwhelm Keith when he gets on a knee and presents it; he wants there to be no doubt in Keith’s mind just how much the man is loved by Shiro.

The box has taken up home in his drawer for the past 6 months, just waiting for the say Shiro wakes up and _just knows_.

He closes the drawer and catches a glimpse of his lop-sided grin as he’s gathering his robe and slippers.

Today’s not the day. But someday it will be.

* * *

The school paper hits that Monday and Shiro knows only because Keith sends him a shot of it. On the cover is Allura, helmet resting at her side, with the fierce look in her eyes that suggests the lioness is about to pounce. But in the courner is a small picture of Keith and him, Keith tucked against Shiro’s chest. He doesn’t get a chance to read the caption before another message from Keith sends.

The _other_ school paper also dropped. This one has Keith and him as the highlight. Only, unlike the sweet embrace from the other photo, this one is unnervingly zoomed in on their faces.

Keith’s eyebrows are raised in rapture, his mouth hovering just in front of Shiro’s, his hands are clutching Shiro’s cheeks, and a small strand of spit connects them where there tongues are peeking from their mouths.

Keith looks desperate and wrecked even in the context of having just played a game. Shiro’s hand is cradling the back of Keith’s head and his eyes are open ever so slightly, looking at Keith’s face from beneath his lashes.

Baby Boy: You tell Matt to get a head start in running

Baby Boy: I am gonna kill him

Baby Boy: >:(

You: Not if I get to him first

You: Or wait maybe I should hold him

You: And let you do the honours

You: But between you and me

You: Damn, Baby💋

Shiro chuckles. It’s embarrassing for a man in his late twenties but he has to excuse himself to the bathroom for some deep breaths. He splashes cold water over his face once he gets there. There’s a meeting with clients in ten minutes and he can’t afford to greet them in these trim of pants if he’s thinking about stuffing Keith’s mouth like he is.

His phone pings again.

Baby Boy: >:( Just got into my dorm and Lance has that stupid paper taped all over our walls

Baby Boy: Dumbass probably used all of his semester’s allotted free prints

Baby Boy: I swear I’m gonna swap his cheer uniform out for one with the skirt

You: Keith!

Baby Boy: God, I know. Geez. I’m not actually gonna do it

You: Behave, I have a meeting

Baby Boy: Yes, sir 🙄

You: Or don’t, if you want a good 🍑👋🏼 later

Baby Boy: 🙄

You: Brat

Shiro makes sure to save the picture before clicking his phone off. He’s gonna grab Keith’s hair and spank him until there’s a bruise in the shape of a hand on each cheek. Especially because he now has to splash more cold water on his face and text his assistant to let the client know he’ll be another few minutes.

* * *

They’re lounging around in Shiro’s bed, exhausted and slightly hungover from their night out. First they went to dinner at one of the fanciest Korean restaurants in town. Shiro could tell something was bothering Keith and knew the food would remind him of his mom, who was on the other coast for at least another month. It had perked the man up a little to tuck into some hotpot with kimchi but he was still pretty quiet the whole meal. Sensing that Keith wanted to be anywhere but his own head, Shiro took them to Coran’s bar.

Keith got trashed.

He doesn’t usually get trashed.

Shiro turns over and runs his hands through a still-sleeping Keith’s hair.

He worries. He worries a lot. There are many reasons he doesn’t deserve Keith. Keith is fierce, and fearless, and so loving. Shiro’s a bit selfish, has a saving-people complex, much to the chagrin of Keith’s independence, and he can be closed off at times. He knows he shouldn’t but he worries.

Keith’s breath trembles as it leaves him and his face scrunches up.

Shiro notices that Keith’s forehead is warm. He slowly backs away from Keith and tries to get off the bed, wanting to get Keith some water and aspirin, but the motion wakes Keith up.

”Shiro?” The sound of his voice confirms what Shiro suspected. It’s scratchy and breathy.

Shiro sits back down on the side of the bed and cradles Keith’s cheek, stroking at the soft skin with his thumb. ”You ok, baby? I think you’ve been pushing yourself a bit hard lately.”

”I’m fine,” he doesn’t sound it, ”I have to practice hard for our game against the Panthers.” Keith huffs and turns on his side, making Shiro’s hand fall away.

”But if you practice so hard you make yourself sick, you’re not gonna be any use at the actual game.”

Keith doesn’t reply. His fingers ball into a fist where they lay beside his head. If he knows Keith, the man is more mad with himself than Shiro.

”Don’t say that. I can’t afford to lose this.” He continues, quieter, ”I’m always afraid I’ll lose. Like maybe I’ll be a burden for the team and it’ll be better that I leave.”

Shiro lays back down, curling behind Keith and draping his metal arm around Keith’s stomach. It must be cold because Keith makes a noise, but when Shiro goes to withdraw it, Keith grabs tightly and guides Shiro’s hand to his breast. Keith interlaces their fingers over his heart.

Shiro’s grateful that Pidge designed a prosthetic that could register touch because he likes the feel of Keith’s heart beating beneath his palm.

It’s easy to forget that someone like Keith could be crippled beneath insecurity.

Shiro brushes his lips against the nape of Keith’s neck. He’s not sure what he can say to Keith. He can’t promise they’ll win. As much as he wants to, and thinks they will, he just can’t make empty promises. Not to Keith. Not to Keith who’s been hurt so much. ”I love you.” He settles on because that’s the one thing he can say with certainty. ”God, Keith,” he breathes against Keith’s neck, inhaling his scent, ”I love you so much.”

Keith chuckles without much heart, no doubt having caught Shiro’s change of subject. But Shiro doesn’t say it often, not as often as Keith, and not usually being the one to initiate it. Which is another reason Shiro thinks Keith deserves better.

But Keith, sweet Keith, raises Shiro’s hand, still held in his, to his lips and kisses it. ”I love you too.”

He lets the moment linger, lets it fill them both with all the hope and comfort and encouragement it’s meant to.

Though he’s not as good with feelings as Keith is, so moves face close to Keith’s and breathes against his ear, ”I love you, my dumb jock.”

Keith groans and twists out of the embrace, batting Shiro away from him.

”Ugh go build me a shed, or something,” Keith squirms off the side of the bed and searches Shiro’s wardrobe for something. Their size difference works out that while Shiro’s pants in no way stay on Keith’s hips, and would be too long, long enough that he’d just trip as he walked, Shiro’s shirts went to Keith’s mid thigh. Albeit the collar slides down a little and even being a solid collection of muscle Keith’s shoulders and arms don’t quite fill out the sleeves.

Shiro thinks, as he watches Keith slip his shirt over his head and try and wrangle his hair back into its elastic, that he’d build Keith anything he ever wanted. A home, a life, a family, anything that struck Keith, whenever it struck him, Shiro would drop everything to make happen.

Shiro stares, breathless.

When Keith finally leaves the room, to go get some water, Shiro dives for the drawer in his nightstand and quickly unearths the little box to give a quick kiss so it gets all the love he’s feeling right now onto it, so it’s seeps into the ring. With haste he stashes it back and shuts the drawer before Keith comes back.

Keith enters the room and sets two waters on the nightstand and a thought pops into Shiro’s head as Keith bends forward and he’s treated to sight of two dusky brown nipples.

Shiro gets off the bed and walks up to Keith, walking the man backwards and against the wall.

Keith looks up at him through his lashes, mouth slightly parted.

For all the energy of the night, they didn’t end up doing anything sexual.

Shiro bends over so that his mouth brushes lightly against the shell of Keith’s ear, his arms raising and leaning against the wall, crowding Keith between them and his body. He breathes out, purposefully, fanning hot air against Keith’s cheek. It earns him a shiver.

”You know,” Shiro starts and it’s husky to even his own ears, ”Your skin is really pretty,” he rubs Keith’s earlobe between his lips and then lets his tongue drag across it, feeling the tug on his tongue ring. ”I’ve always wanted to see...” He removes an arm from the wall and draws his hand down to Keith’s pec and cups it, squeezes it, and pinches the nipple he felt hardening beneath his palm, ”metal beneath it.”

He pulls his head back and locks eyes with Keith and from here he can see the blown pupils threatening to engulf the deep indigo of his irises.

Keith’s shaky breath is audible from their distance.

”You like that idea?” He continues to roll the nub between his fingers, rolling and flicking and pinching it. ”Just think, no one would have to know what’s beneath your shirt. It’d be between just you and me.”

Keith hisses as Shiro smashes his nipple between his fingers.

”It’s quick. A sharp pinch and then it’s sliding right through the hole.”

Keith reaches up to clasp the hand messing with his nipple and digs his fingernails in. ”Shiro.”

”Is that a yes, baby? Wanna get your nipples pierced? I can take you today.”

Shiro pulls forward and twists, causing Keith’s eyes to screw shut as he whines and buries his nail deeper, until they break skin. Keith nods.

”No, I need to hear the words, Baby. It’s your body.”

”Yes, Shiro. _Please.”_

 _”_ Shh, it’s ok, Baby. I hear you. I’ll take you. But they’re gonna have to heal for some weeks before we can play with them, so let me first-” He lets go of the nipple and Keith releases his hand. He slides his fingers down Keith’s side and stops when they brush the skin of his upper thigh.

Keith shifts his legs apart at the touch.

Shiro eases his hand up the shirt, the fabric drawing up by his wrist.

Ducking his head, and bending at the waist because he’s so much taller, he latches his mouth around the nipple he’d been abusing earlier.

He was gonna make Keith cum untouched from just nipple play.

It would make the upcoming weeks all the sweeter in torture when they had to ignore his nipples. Especially when they’d look so taunting adorned with metal.

* * *

He gets a text from Keith that worries him.

Baby Boy: com gt me plz garrison

The Lions had gone for a friendly game at the Garrison against their Seagulls. Shiro had stayed behind at Keith’s explicit request.

”It’s not gonna count for the season,” Keith had waved it off.

But that had never stopped Shiro before. He’d worried that Keith was thinking Shiro didn’t want to be at the games anymore, so he’d reassured Keith that his inability to comprehend the game didn’t ruin his enjoyment. And ultimately, he loved supporting Keith.

Keith had smiled but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. ”Yeah, I- ... I know. I just think this game would be kind of a waste to go to, is all.”

Shiro had been confused but he read it loud and clear, Keith was asking him to not come. For reasons he didn’t know why.

”Ok, Keith. Well I’m cheering you on from here. Not that you need it!”

Shiro lets Keith know he’s on his way.

It’s getting dark outside.

He’s grateful for the speed of his bike as he weaves through traffic. He can pay any ticket he gets. Right now Keith needs him.

He doesn’t register anything but the vibration of the engine and the wind screaming in his ears as he flies through the streets to Garrison University.

He pulls up to parking lot and rips the keys from the engine, removing his helmet and stuffing it under his arm as he dismounts the bike. He dashes madly for across the campus, memories from his days here and instincts screaming to find Keith lead him around the buildings and to the football field.

As he’s running, he takes note that despite the game earlier, the campus is mostly empty. The closer he gets to the field the sparser the people become. And when he finally gets there, not even the lights from the stadium are turned on.

He breathes deep to quell the panic starting to boil in his chest.

”Keith?” He calls out as loud as he can across the field.

No reply.

How’s he going to find Keith?

He grabs his phone from his pocket and opens his texts. There’s nothing new there.

You: Baby, I’m here. Where are you?

He waits a minute, an agonizing minute. Nothing.

”Keith?” He tries calling again. Nothing.

Just as the panic is seeping into his bones, causing them to rattle, and pulse to spike, he thinks to check the locker room.

Sprinting across the field, he navigates with still-adjusting night vision to the building adjacent the field. There’s a moment where he’s afraid it’s locked but as soon as he tries the handle the door swings open.

There’s the sound of ragged breath.

He feels like the whole gravity of the planet is striking down upon him.

”Keith?” He tries again, this time small and almost afraid it will see response.

And it does.

”Shiro?” The name sounds slurred and heavy in Keith’s mouth.

Shiro searches the wall blindly for the light switch and flicks it on when he finds it.

Keith groans.

Shiro steps towards Keith.

The man is lying on his side, curled into a ball. A small trail of blood is flowing from his mouth. A little distance away is vomit the texture of coffee grounds. It’s one thing to hear the wheezy breaths, and another to watch Keith struggle and shudder as he takes them. His face is covered in purple and yellow bruises.

”Oh God, Keith, what- Fuck. Why didn’t you call an ambulance? And no, don’t say you’re fine. God. Keith.” Shiro lets the helmet drop from his arm and gets down to the floor. He tries to scoop Keith into his arms but Keith cries out as soon as Shiro moves him.

”God.” Shiro gingerly lays Keith back down and withdraws his arms. Judging by Keith’s reaction, the man probably has a or several broken ribs. And the look of the vomit says there’s internal bleeding. He learned a lot in his volunteer work at clinics. And he knew enough to know Keith wouldn’t make it back on his bike, if Shiro could safely lift him at all.

Keith sputters and spits out some blood. ”Jumped,” he manages.

”Just hang in there, Baby. I’m gonna call an ambulance. Hang in there. You’re doing good, Baby.” He types the number into his phone as he finger combs Keith’s bangs away from his face.

He tells them everything he can see and what he thinks happened. They have Shiro check Keith’s eyes for dilation and focus. Shiro has to bite around the emotion when lets the phone operator know that Keith’s eyes are dilated and no, they aren’t focusing. They tell him to not let Keith close his eyes.

He goes between talking to the operator and talking to Keith as Keith has to keep blinking himself out of sleep.

The paramedics arrive and it’s a rush Shiro can’t really keep up with. Not with his nerves so frayed. He watches, kind of dumbly, and follows them into the ambulance.

* * *

Keith waits to tell Shiro what happened until he’s out of the hospital. His pride wounded maybe more than his body was.

James and some other members of his team had cournered Keith after the game. They taunted him with slurs but Keith insisted that he didn’t want a fight. Keith was passed the days where he was gonna use fists to solve problems.

But James hadn’t seen it that way.

As Keith was trying to leave the locker room someone tackled him from behind. He was then rolled onto his back and held down by his arms as they beat him. The broken ribs, which had punctured his stomach, had come from James bringing down his heel on Keith’s chest in a drop kick.

Shiro was pulling on his leather jacket by the time Keith finished telling him.

But Keith did that thing again where stood in front of Shiro, looking up at him as if the angle wouldn’t make him look smaller, and placed a hand firmly on Shiro’s chest. And, despite the pulse screaming in his ears and the twitch in his fingers, he backed down.

He shut his eyes tight and took audible breaths to steady himself, so he wouldn’t turn any of that rage on Keith.

”Is that why you didn’t want me there?”

Shiro raised a hand to cup Keith’s cheek.

”Yeah. I kind of figured he’d pull this. And I knew you’d try to intervene. I just- I didn’t think I’d be unable to handle them. I thought it would just be James.”

”You stupid, dumb jock of mine,” Shiro just grabbed Keith’s face and kissed him. He’d scold Keith later. For then he was just grateful Keith was alive and in one piece. Even if it meant he’d be benched for a few practices (which Shiro secretly thought would be good for Keith. The man needed rest.)

It’s the second week in a row where Keith is benched and Shiro’s keeping him company as the man watches his team play without him.

The small consolation, Shiro thinks, is that even he can tell the team is fumbling without Keith. He hopes Keith takes notice and realizes that his place among the team is valuable and he, himself, is irreplaceable.

It’s then that he gets the idea.

It’s been a coming for a while now, he could feel it, but as the days went on he was becoming surer. Every morning he’s waking up with a heart fuller. Every morning he’s waking up, dreaming he’ll open his eyes to see Keith. And when he does, he remains still and traces Keith’s sleeping face into his memory.

The big game against the Galra Panthers is coming.

But that’s not going to be the only significance of the day.

 _That_ day has finally come.

**Author's Note:**

> I have been writing this fic literally since I woke up at 7am and it is now almost 3pm. I have ADHD. This is torture. 
> 
> But the need was great.
> 
> So anyways, chapter 2 when? *(Stay tuned, the next chapter gets full-on Saucy)


End file.
